A Clash of Demons

by Aleks Canard

  ‘He’s dead as the knob on the morgue’s front door. And I say so! And I know so! And he won’t be walkin’ home no more. O, poor old man.

  ‘I’ll use the skin on his back as a midnight snack. And I say so! And I know so! And the rest I’ll leave along the track. O, poor old man.

  ‘Leave him down on the crossroads without hope. And I say so! And I know so! Where the vultures ave his body, and the demon his soul! O, poor old man.

  ‘You flirted with death, hoping for a kiss, instead you got fucked, oh the bliss to give life a miss. Rode hard and put away bloody, why there’s never a time that murder ain’t funny. So come one, come all, come all over your granny’s floor. Head to the crossroads, and see Uncle Gauthier. He’ll flay ya and rape ya, he’ll straight up desecrate ya.

  ‘So what you waiting for? Get on your knees and loosen that jaw. Because you can bet that this cock’s never getting sore.’

  Howling, knee slapping laughter erupted over the stones.

  Trix reached the top of the sepulchre’s steps as Gauthier finished his song. It’d taken her an inordinate amount of time to climb them. There was only six. She hadn’t wanted to. Looking into the troubadour’s eyes was worse than the never-ending abyss of Thelonious Grim himself.

  Gauthier Nadim’s eyes were full of death, true enough, but they were also full of orgasmic pleasure. He did this because he loved it.

  The bad man was still laughing. He clicked his heels together. Leapt onto a tombstone, balancing with a machina’s ease. He sat cross-legged on the curved edge. Rested his chin in one hand. Wiped his eyes with the other.

  ‘I do love that one. A classic in every sense of the word. Really a good one for marching when you’re weary. I feel it grabs me by the bootstraps, slaps me on the arse and gets me a movin and shakin all the way down the road. To be honest, I didn’t even know I’d wind up here. I could’ve sworn I went eastward from the Boulevard of Broken Dreams, just past Misery Business, but who’s to say?’

  ‘What’re you doing here, Gauthier?’ said Trix. Sif hadn’t notified her of any ships yet. For the moment, it was just her and the bad man which meant she was safe. Gauthier couldn’t harm them until he’d granted all his summoner’s wishes like a good little demon.

  ‘You there, sorcerer in red. See what I mean, this girl’s got real fire in her. She’s not afraid of my beautiful voice, nor my name which usually makes women swoon. Though I confess that along the way I’ve forgotten the difference between swooning and death from blood loss. Either way, normally they never stand so confidently. I do prefer you people on your backs.’

  Altayr remained tight lipped. He was worried that bile would come out if he spoke.

  ‘And, Faedra, my darling. Lovely to see you again. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me. My thanks for summoning me in the first place. It’s so hard to find good customers these days when everyone’s more concerned with the latest robotic sex toys and high-flying ships than travelling vagrants just trying to get by in this cruel world. The injustice of it sets me right off my top. Really gets the blood boiling.’ Gauthier’s head slumped. He raised it again. Spoke in an animatronic voice. ‘For more clichés and rhymes, please deposit a thousand orits.’ He slapped his knees to a rhythmic little ditty only he heard then let out a long sigh. ‘Ah, you three are a tough crowd.’

  ‘You have no idea,’ Trix said. She hadn’t drawn her sword, knowing it would do nothing. Goddamn she wanted to run Gauthier through.

  Sif: ‘Trix. One ship coming in low over the western ridge. Too low for aerial bombardment. And it’s slowing.’

  Trix saw wing tips’ blinking lights. The hull was black, orange, and white. Probably its stock paint job.

  The ship stopped at the graveyard’s western edge. Landing struts emerged from the base. Nadira Vega stepped out. She wore full battle-armour with an exo-suit skeleton that made her as tall as an oni in lieu of her typical provocative dresses.

  Nadira was flanked by six guards. They walked in an arrowhead formation towards the crossroads. Gauthier watched everything unfold with a goofy smile. He rocked back and forth on the tombstone he was sitting on, anxious for the fireworks to begin.

  Dark’s Hide’s Duchess came to a stop where the west road met the square. Trix, Altayr, and Faedra stood at the east road. Gauthier, still atop his perch, was at the south road.

  The crossroad demon rubbed his hands together.

  He so loved it when a plan came together.

  2

  The three parties regarded each other with varying degrees of trepidation.

  Trix stared down Nadira who smiled back pleasantly. Gauthier winked at Faedra who looked to Altayr who was watching Trix. No one spoke. The wind made cutting sounds as it blew across the knife ridges bordering the plain. Nadira’s suit had torches which illuminated the graveyard. The absence of darkness didn’t make it welcoming. It made the landscape even eerier.

  Light didn’t fit in with the rest of the aesthetic. It was like hearing Christmas carols in the middle of the year, or seeing someone dressed as Santa skulking around a dingy back alley.

  ‘Well, I’d say this has dragged on long enough, though I do love tense silences. I could bask in their marvellous mirth while mulling over myriads of miserable mishaps that mayhap involve a massacre or millions while meditating on many mordantly masochistic thoughts which might mislead my mind and make me partake in moderately monstrous but mostly mean misadventures, if I’m not mistaken.’

  ‘If I’m not mistaken, demon, all the girl’s wishes have been fulfilled,’ Nadira said. She spoke like she was striking a deal with a warlord or drug kingpin. It was all just good business.

  ‘Quite,’ Gauthier said, stepping off his tombstone. ‘All that remains is for me to ink the contract and we are outta here.’

  Faedra: ‘What? My wishes haven’t been fulfilled. My parents have not risen from the dead. That is what I’m owed.’

  ‘Oh, contraire, my saucy little sorceress. I think you’ll find that they have.’

  ‘They’re still in their coffins. They haven’t risen at all.’

  Nadira’s eyes flashed to Gauthier. If the demon had made a mistake she would… well, she didn’t know how to threaten him, but damn it, she would be livid.

  ‘Ah, I see why you might think that. And seriously, enough with the “what?” questions, they are dreadfully dull to hear and to answer.’ Gauthier clapped his hands. A contract written on translucent skin, inked with blood, appeared in the air beside him. ‘Let me see here, my oh my, the intricacy. I say, fine print has become even finer. Where is it? Ah, there we go. Ahem. Third Wish: Magnus de Morland and Ifriegha Sromme shall be risen from The Dead. It’s there, clear as,’ Gauthier looked to the sky. It wouldn’t be daytime on this part of Orix for another decade. ‘Well, you know.’

  The sky was full dark now. No stars.

  ‘But that hasn’t happened,’ Faedra said. She was ready to plunge her spear straight through Gauthier’s head. Regret washed over her. She had summoned this infernal beast. She’d thought that she was so clever. Then Altayr and that fucking machina had to mess everything up.

  ‘I’m not seeing how you cannot see that this has happened. Oh, unless you don’t happen to know this little graveyard’s name. That’s understandable. It makes the middle of nowhere look like a tourist attraction complete with neon signs, cameras, and ghastly shirts. You see, this area of Orix was once home to a fair share of dark mages. I had no idea. I’ve always been a rock n roll kinda guy rather than a scholar.

  ‘Nadira, obliging sweet thing that she is, did quite a bit of research for me. Or rather, for herself. But I’m assuming you’ve figured that out. After all, she hardly came here for the scenery. I’ve seen burn victims prettier than this place. Talk about macabre. Sheesh. Am I right, sports fans?’

  No one answered Gauthier. Even Nadira’s fire was dampened by the troubadour’s words. She hadn’t been scared since she was a young girl. Now she felt cold sweat over her entire
body.

  ‘I’ve digressed again,’ Gauthier slapped his knees. ‘I tell you, it’s my wanderer’s heart. It sets my feet a walkin and my mouth a talkin and rarely do they stop. Hah, there I go. Thrice now. I’m guessing. I’ve lost count. My point, dear Faedra, darling, is that the name of this very graveyard is Meyr’morwolaeth. Rather a large mouthful and all that. But I needn’t tell you that in Ancient Zirean, it means, The Dead.

  ‘And have you not risen them from The Dead after all? They were below the earth. Look at you with your high-flying magic. You raised them both. In fact, they’re still raised. Well done, bravo, salutations, may all you dreams go up in conflagrations.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant,’ Faedra said, only now realising her error. She had hoped that this would be impossible. Faedra wanted to avoid having her wishes fulfilled at all costs. Yet she couldn’t help herself when presented with the possibility of seeing her parents again. And for what? She’d been so young when they’d disappeared. Her memories were hazy. Her head hurt when she failed to recall them. It was like there was something important within her mind. A great truth she’d forgotten that needed to be remembered.

  Though the Guild had made sure that wouldn’t be possible. Or so they thought.

  ‘I wanted them alive again,’ Faedra continued.

  Gauthier’s smiling face turned anger incarnate. His boozy, melodic voice — which frequently changed to different impressions depending on how he was feeling — became a booming battle drum for an army of a thousand criminals.

  ‘I CHECKED YOUR WORDING WITH YOU THRICE, FAEDRA DE MORLAND, AND YOU AGREED WITH ME. HOW DARE YOU INSINUATE THAT IT WAS I WHO DID NOT UNDERSTAND WHEN YOU ARE THE FOOL.

  ‘MY LIPS HAVE BEEN WET WITH DIVINE BLOOD AND THUS THE LAST THING BINDING ME TO MY ETERNAL DAMNATION IS YOU, SORCERESS. YOUR WISHES HAVE BEEN FULFILLED AND I, MALDRODYN, SEE YOUR CONTRACT SIGNED. NOW FOR WHAT YOU OWE ME, YOU FUCKING WHORE SLUT.’

  Gauthier moved towards Faedra. Darkness swirled around him with incessant, baleful muttering. Lightning thrashed the sky like whips wielded by gods. Altayr readied his staff. Trix drew her sword. Retracted her gloves. Nadira Vega watched on, eager to receive her wish. Though the fact that Gauthier had not mentioned her in his tirade was unsettling. Surely he hadn’t forgotten what he owed her?

  Trix made a shallow cut along her hand. Retracted her helmet. Spoke in a clear, unwavering voice.

  ‘Maldrodyn, I challenge you for Faedra de Morland’s soul. Should I fail your test, you may take mine and hers. But let it be known, here, on this day, that should I triumph, you will be banished from this world.’

  Nadira Vega’s eyes snapped to Trix. ‘Machina, what do you think you’re doing? Let this go ahead.’

  Dark’s Hide’s Duchess pulled out a gatling gun which was attached to the back of her exo-suit. Her men raised their weapons. They fired. Trix went to evade when she saw that all the bullets had frozen.

  Nadira’s helmet had stopped activating halfway around her face. Lightning bolts hung in the sky.

  ‘What the fuck?’ Trix said. She looked at Altayr and Faedra. Both of them were stuck in place. Their faces grimly determined.

  ‘Sif, what’s going on?’ said Trix.

  There was no answer.

  ‘Again with the “what?” questions,’ Gauthier said. ‘Dreary, tedious, insipid!’ He was back to his old self. For the moment.

  ‘You’ve stopped time. That’s impossible.’

  ‘Oh, this? Pish posh. This is just a little something I give to my extra special clients. It is so rare that a devil’s threesome becomes a foursome. Greetings, challenger.’

  Trix was still reeling from the unreality of everything. ‘You’re not mad? Why?’

  ‘I’ve never been beaten, defeated, licked or come second place. I feel rather confident, can’t you tell from my face?’

  ‘But I prolonged your eternal damnation.’

  ‘Oh yes, that’s a frightful shame. But I’ll get you back for that, little machina. You’ll see,’ Gauthier walked towards Trix.

  She went to step backwards, only she was rooted in place. The rest of her body was frozen like everything else. The world began dimming even more than it already was. Trix couldn’t see anything but darkness within five seconds.

  And Gauthier’s face, right in front of hers.

  She blinked.

  The Maestro of Mirrors, Imperator of Illusions, and Tsar of Terrors vanished.

  Fade to black.

  3

  Light came back one piece at a time.

  Conscious thought gradually crept back to Trix’s mind like a struggling alcoholic stumbling to the liquor cabinet for one last drop. Darkness still surrounded her. However, she was no longer standing on Orix. At least, she didn’t think so.

  A circular platform of stained-glass went on all around her, ending in a sheer drop. From what she could make of the picture, it was Gauthier smiling. He wore a crown of Zilvian roses. The thorns had lacerated his face. It wasn’t blood that came out, but teeth. Endless gory razors.

  Gauthier was nowhere to be seen.

  Trix drew her sword. She was prepared for a combat challenge. If Gauthier was going to send waves of demons after her, then she’d slaughter every last one of them.

  ‘You know,’ Gauthier said, his voice in surround sound, ‘I’m surprised at you, Beatrix. Apparently you despise involvement. Yet it doesn’t get any more involved than this. I think you rather like playing the hero, if I’m to give my honest opinion.’

  ‘I don’t care about your opinions, Gauthier. I want to hear your challenge.’

  ‘Fine. Have it your way. LET’S GET REEEEAAAAADDDDDDYYY TOOOOOOOO RUMMMMMMMMBLLLLLE!’

  Every type of monster Trix had ever fought came at her at once. There were wraiths, vampires, werewolves, golems, elementals, chimeras, and more. So much for the challenge having to be fair. She couldn’t win. But she wasn’t going down without a fight.

  Trix charged for the closest monster — a wyvern four times larger than any she had seen — and struck. It turned into a flock of vluddes. As did the rest of the monsters. They flew away. Beyond Trix’s vision.

  ‘You didn’t think it would be so savage did you? So straight forward? My goodness, you insult me.’

  ‘I’ve had it with the games.’

  ‘Nonsense. You love games. I can see it when I peer into your soul windows. If you truly hated involvement, machina, you would become a hermit on some forsaken planet and live simply for the rest of your days, caring not what became of others. But you were built to care on Mair Ultima. Built to save people. Sure you’ve murdered a lot of people too, but somewhere in there you saved em real nice.’

  ‘There’s a difference between murdering and killing.’

  ‘You would know, you’ve done plenty of both. However, I think you’ll find that they have one important similarity.’

  ‘Both end in death.’

  ‘I was going to say they’re both fun, but sure, that works too. I dare say you’re more correct than I, for murder is certainly a bigger hoot than killing. Nice and bloody to boot.’

  ‘The challenge, Gauthier. I’m tired of waiting.’

  ‘I can keep you here as long as I please. And I just want to talk. Why are you so eager to die?’

  ‘I don’t think you want to talk at all. I think you’re scared that I’ll beat you.’

  Laughter pierced Trix’s ears. She dropped her sword. Fell to her knees. Blood spurted onto her gloves. She blinked. It was gone. What was this place?

  ‘Beatrix, you little cunt, I have seen more worlds than you’ve seen planets. Driven home more deals than a car salesman with a pornography addiction, a greasy side part, and the worst fitting suit you ever did see. His cars don’t come cheap, but the STDs come free. I know you won’t win.’

  ‘Have you considered that your freedom will also rob you of all your powers?’

  ‘No. And it won’t. If you think that I’m the most powerful being there is, then first
of all… aw, I’m flattered. Second of all, you’re a fucking idiot. A perfect fool. There are many levels to power, Beatrix.’

  ‘So what balances the power?’

  ‘A place that you don’t know, and shall never go. Wow, what a deadening answer to a monotonous question.’

  ‘Why does it balance the power?’

  ‘Now there’s a club banger. One that’ll raise the roof without doubt. You may as well ask why we’re all here. There isn’t a good answer for that one, but a nice conversation starter. Great for getting to know what people value. Which, if they ask that question, is usually a good argument.

  ‘Your people, not machinas, humans, always thought you were alone in the universe. Brave explorers in a starry void that was begging for you to stick your flags every which way to Sunday.

  ‘Then the zireans came and the rest is history, present, and future, I reckon. Some of you talk about multi-verses, and universes, and other dimensions, but all of these, they are only playthings for far greater beings. For Eternals, like me. Ah, another digression. Apologies.’

  ‘I don’t care about your self-indulgent metaphysical tripe. Give me your challenge. And come out, or are you too scared to face me?’

  ‘Fine, I’ll come out, if you insist. But I warn you, I’m not as pretty as usual.’

  Trix felt her footing slip. The stained-glass she was standing on drained into a central point, then rose into a cylinder which gradually took the shape of a man. It was Gauthier, though he was made out of the same stained-glass the floor had been. Like a complex statue. He smiled more crookedly than a beggar missing half his teeth. The gashes caused by his rose crown opened to show real teeth that went on into darkness beyond Trix’s vision.

  The floor had turned into Orix’s stones.

  ‘There, is this not better?’ Gauthier said, walking towards Trix.

  This time the machina didn’t move away.

  ‘Giving Uncle Gauthier the ol’ silent treatment aye? Well, that’s fine. I suppose we can get on with your challenge. For we’re bound, you and I. All because of your stupid words. Oh well, what can we do. I know, I’ll give you some more stupid words. That’s it!